


Tell me quick...ain't love like a kick (in the head)?

by megyal



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-26
Updated: 2007-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a February Challenge, using Option A: <i>Valentine's Day: Write a story that starts off with Patrick meeting a blind date for Valentine's Day. Who set him up for this date is up to you, and where the date ends up is also up to you.</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	Tell me quick...ain't love like a kick (in the head)?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a February Challenge, using Option A: _Valentine's Day: Write a story that starts off with Patrick meeting a blind date for Valentine's Day. Who set him up for this date is up to you, and where the date ends up is also up to you._

Pete's nerves were fraying at the edges, what with Joe throwing a tantrum in the kitchen over some wilted vegetables and yelling at the sous-chef; having the Boss' youngest son seated calmly in the Regal booth was not helping matters. Patrick's voice was a soothing balm and if it wasn't for those dulcet tones, Pete would have probably been clambering up the walls of his restaurant through sheer apprehension; as it was, he managed to paste a cocky grin on his face and approach Iero and his bodyguards.

"Wentz," Frankie said with a small smile. "That kid has a great voice. Where's he from?"

"Who, Patrick?" Pete beckoned to one of the waiters, who bustled over to refill Frankie's wine-glass. Frankie sipped at it and nodded his pleasure. "He's in the same college as you; started coming in a few times a week. Not law like what you're in, though. Lucky him."

Frankie gave him another tight smile and closed his eyes, nodding a little to the swing Patrick was beating out of the baby grand.

"That one is nice...but does he take requests? I'd like something..something Ella.Think he'd play that for me?"

"For you?" Pete spread his arms expansively, his smile almost manic. "He'll play _anything_."

Frankie blew out a smooth curl of smoke as Pete made his way over to the fair musician, bending to whisper in his ear. He watched as Patrick's dark hat bobbed up and down quickly and then gave an appreciative huff as Patrick fell into _How High the Moon_.

He liked that song.

"Call Pete back," he said softly to one of the bodyguards. "Tomorrow is Valentine's day. I want him to sing for me."

*

Patrick stared at the severe black ironwork of the gates, the house beyond a faint glimmer among the thick line of trees. He was perplexed as to why Pete had driven him out all the way up to the Iero house; if the family had wanted a party, couldn't they have kept it at the restaurant? He frowned over this a little more, stealing a glance at Pete's pinched face as they waited for the gates to part completely and let them through.

"I'm going to leave you here," Pete said in a low voice. He sounded a little distressed as he maneuvered up the long driveway, coming to stop under a massive portico with wooden beams. "Frankie'll drive you back down when you've finished playing. Okay?"

"Okay." Patrick unbuckled the seat-belt and opened the door; Pete grabbed onto his upper arm and squeezed it a little.

"You'll be fine. Just, okay, don't upset Frankie's father. Boss Iero has a temper and he--"

"I'll be alright." Patrick patted Pete's hand, trying not to pay attention to the sliver of fear in his chest. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. I mean...it's just playing the piano. How bad can I mess that up?"

Pete's smile stabilised and he nodded his head, releasing Patrick's arm. Patrick climbed the wide circular steps to the front door as Pete drove off and was surprised to see Frankie Iero himself open it before he knocked, his hazel eyes calmly considering on Patrick's face.

"Hi." (Really, Pete told him to stop talking so low. It confused peope when they heard his singing voice). "You asked for someone to play at your party?"

"What? Oh. Yeah...It's a small thing," Frankie said, stepping aside so that Patrick could slip through the tall door. "As a matter of fact, it's really just me and you."

Patrick, who had been admiring the silver armour in the corner, turned slowly and looked at him. Frankie held his gaze.

"That...that sounds like a date, or something."

"Does it?" Frankie's voice still held that calm thread. "Now that you mention it..." He gave a sudden bright and uncertain grin that changed his whole countenance completely. "I heard you play at Pete's place last night. This? This is supposed to be a blind date."

"It's pretty much _very_ blind," Patrick said blankly, totally flummoxed. Frankie Iero, who was all suave suits and cool good looks, was interested in a pale chubby musician. Patrick stared at him and Frankie stared back until Patrick's skin took on a faint flush.

"Well, okay. Are you hungry? I had dinner set up for you...and me. Us..together..eating food." Frankie looked a little mad at himself for this verbal stumbling and Patrick pursed his lips together, wondering if it was alright to chuckle. With an Iero, they might shoot you for thinking about it. However, Frankie flashed him a surprised look and then relaxed into a smile. "And maybe, after dinner, you'll play something for me."

This was maybe the way the Ieros spoke, every phrase a command and Patrick shrugged noncommitally. Frankie raised his eyebrows and then strode off, leaving Patrick to trot behind him.

*

The dining table was huge. It could have seated eighteen, maybe twenty people and its surface had a deep glow of well-cared furniture; Patrick could practically see the chandelier that hung over it reflected in its mahogany depths. Frank stood at a chair near the end and pulled out the seat, waiting. Patrick blinked at him a little before he realised: shit, Frankie Iero was holding out a seat for _him_.

He sat quickly and pulled his chair closer to his table-setting. Frankie sat at the head of the table and gave him another smouldering smile.

"I asked Pete what you liked. He told me you're a vegetarian? Oh, but you also eat fish. Is that correct?"

Frankie's manners were impeccable, Patrick pondered as he nodded. One would never believe that Boss Iero made a living of tormenting people; he'd seen Frankie on campus before, maybe one of the only students who was driven to school in one of those massive square vehicles, the ones that looked like the Terminator in car-form. What was it Pete had called it? A _Hummer_. Patrick had made some corny joke about it, something to the tune of _if that was a hummer he'd hate to hear the whole song_. Pete had been only slightly amused. He wondered if Frankie might see the humour in it.

Now, Frankie reached out and took up a tiny glass bell next to his plate, shaking it delicately it so that its sharp notes rung through the air. Instantly, a door in the center of the wall across from Patrick opened and two ladies in serving-uniforms emerged. They gave Frankie indulgent smiles and nodded politely at Patrick, one setting down large silver platters in the middle while the other set warm plates in front of them both. Frankie took up his fork and thanked the women. They actually tittered a bit, causing Frankie to roll his eyes at their departure.

"I grew up with them," he explained at Patrick's questioning look. "They still think I'm five years old." He pointed with his cutlery at the fish. "That's _Pagello al Sale_...pandora roasted in salt. Don't worry, it won't give you high blood pressure."

"It's not my pressure I worry about," Patrick muttered, watching as Frank took a healthy serving and slid it onto his plate. Frankie fixed his gaze on him until he took a tentative bite.

"Good?"

"Very."

"Excellent." Frankie started to eat as well, but he kept staring on Patrick until he was fairly squirming in his seat. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Because...as much as I liked listening to you, looking at you is even better."

Patrick choked on his pagello and Frankie solicitously poured him a long glass of water from the chilled pitcher. Patrick blinked at his watering eyes and concentrated on his plate, pushing the white meat around the edges.

"You don't believe me." Frankie's voice was flatly surprised and Patrick shook his head slightly. "Why not?"

"What's there to like?" Patrick snapped a little, feeling insecure and slightly temperamental. He half-expected Pete to burst out from behind the curtains and giggle helplessly at him, at some large glorious joke that _someone_ would look at him and not see the ultimate dork.

"What there _not_ to like?" Frankie watched the other bite the inside of his lip and felt a little exasperated. "What, you don't think you're attractive?" He leaned forward and Patrick forced himself to hold still, even though Frankie was close enough for Patrick to ascertain that Frankie wasn't wearing cologne; he had a clean soap-and-softener smell that was highly intoxicating. Patrick sighed and tried his best to explain.

"I...well. It's not that I'm unattractive, I guess. I just don't think I'm anyone's type."

Frankie's dark eyebrows were sailing near his hairline.

"God.. _what_? I don't even know how I should respond to that. I do law, right? And that was just about the worst argument. Ever."

Patrick shrugged and took another bite of fish. He was nearly finished when one of the serving ladies brought in the dessert and took away their plates. He blushed only a little when he thanked her and she enthusiastically pinched his cheek and declared him 'cute'. Frankie smirked at him.

"She doesn't count," Patrick grumbled rebelliously as he gazed at his pudding.

" _Budino al Cioccolato_. Chocolate pudding, because hey, Valentine's day and all." Frankie took up a spoonful of his own pudding and hovered it near Patrick's mouth. Patrick looked at him with doubt, until Frankie touched the edge of the spoon to the seam of his lips. Patrick opened his mouth, taking off the decadent chocolate. "Ah, _come bello_. And you say you're not anyone's type."

Patrick swallowed, revelling in the lush taste as Frankie's eyes bored into his.

"Dude," he said half-jokingly, licking at one corner of his mouth to catch at a spare smudge of chocolate. He didn't miss the way Frankie's stare flicked rapidly to the movement of his tonge. "You're sort of making me blush."

" _Dude_ ," Frankie responded with a faintly mocking air. "That's sort of the _point_."

*

"Play for me," Frankie had said to him and now Patrick sat at this lovely piano in a large room, tall windows letting in a view of the city awash in the golden light of the setting sun. Frankie sat beside him and everytime he moved his right hand to reach for the higher notes, his elbow and arm would brush against the soft material of Frankie's silken shirt. He was rocking to the beat of what he was playing, a habit of passion that he never managed to break himself out of; it reached the point that if he was playing a song he adored, he was likely to lose his hat from rocking back and forth so hard.

"Amazing," Frankie murmured as he finished Angel Eyes with a flourish. "Will you sing something now?"

Patrick turned to him and tried to frown a little.

"I...I have to go. I had fun and all, but I have school tomorrow and--"

"Stay." Frankie's arm was stealing around him and pulling him closer; Patrick felt he had to do something, assert himself before Frankie's mob instincts took over and Patrick was left taking orders. He pulled back, trying to twist out of the circle of Frankie's arm.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm not interested in being some _conquest_." He felt a little fear as something in Frankie's eyes flared to life. "I mean. You can have anybody you want, right? I don't want to be some sort of test-drive, or something."

"Is that what you think this is?" Frankie's voice was cool and incredulous as he shifted down the bench a little, placing the hand that had been on Patrick's shoulders in the space between them. "What? Do you think I have this list that I go through? _'Find a pianist to fuck on Valentine's day. Check.'_ " He glared at Patrick and to his surprise, he got a glare right back. "You don't seem to remember who I am. I'm an _Iero_. When we're serious, we're fucking _serious_."

"I _know_ who you are," Patrick spat, trying to tamp down on his frustration. Pete always said that his temper would get him in trouble one day. "But I'm not some _minion_ of yours. I can't be seduced in one _day_."

Frankie blinked at him rapidly and Patrick set his jaw.

"Okay." Frankie spoke slowly and Patrick realised he was actually trying not to laugh. "Okay, first of all, who says _minion_? Seriously."

"I don't--" Patrick started angrily but Frankie held up one hand to cut him off, chuckling a little.

"And I come across a little strong. I know that. I'm sorry...and I'm glad you called me on it. Very un-minion-like of you."

" _Whatever_ ," Patrick muttered, tapping at C-sharp with a forefinger and struggling not to smile. "Just...you get what I mean, then."

Frankie's arm stole back around him and Patrick made a sharp inhale as a warm soft mouth pressed in that sensitive spot under his ear.

"Yeah, I get it." Frankie's breath was warm against his skin and despite that, Patrick shivered. "A lot of people think we'll shoot you at the first sign of defiance." Frankie paused. "Well...Poppa might, but that's not really the point. I _like_ when the people I'm interested in have a backbone. I don't like conquests, either."

"Good to know," Patrick said breathlessly, arching into Frankie's mouth.

"And about the seduction thing," Frankie stated before he drew Patrick closer and kissed the sense out of him. "I'll try to take more than one day at it. Deal?"

"Sounds fair," Patrick said, trying not to feel too gleeful as Frankie's mouth conquered his _anyway_.


End file.
